


Slow Day

by mydeira



Series: Something Maybe 'Verse [5]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:58:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a day at Torchwood isn’t all that different from any other office job. Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Day

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: through “Small Worlds” to be safe
> 
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I am neither RTD nor the BBC. This is purely for the exorcism of the big bad bunny that landed on my head.
> 
> A/N: Follows Make Of It What You Will and takes place between the episodes “Cyberwoman” and “Small Worlds.” This is the fifth installment in the Something Maybe ‘Verse. Many thanks to sadbhyl for polish and encouragement.

He was watching her; she could feel his eyes on her from across the table. Gwen turned the page in the file she was reading and tried to ignore Owen. It lasted for all of about five seconds.

“Would you stop bloody staring at me, Owen!” she growled, still looking at the file in front of her.

“I’m not staring,” he denied, though he didn’t sound adamant about it.

“Then what do you call looking at me since Tosh left for coffee?” She glared at him from under her bangs.

The corner of his mouth curled in a smirk. “Admiring.”

“Piss off, Owen.”

He chuckled. “Bit touchy today, aren’t we? Wake up in the wrong bed?”

“Bite me.”

“Tempting.”

Her gasp was completely involuntary. Just like the image that flashed into her mind that caused it. Shit, shit, shit.

“Knew you’d like that,” he purred, eyes dancing.

Gwen gritted her teeth. “Fuck you.”

“That I know you like.”

“Are you going to turn everything I say into innuendo?”

Owen leaned across the table. “It’s hardly innuendo when it’s so obvious. And you keep setting yourself up for it.”

He was right. And the truth was, she kind of enjoyed it. But it wasn’t right. Not now, not here at work.

“Besides,” he continued, “it’s a lot more entertaining than sifting through musty files older than the Queen.”

Considering all the technology they had in the place, it did seem pointless. “I don’t get why Jack hasn’t had these scanned into the computer system.”

“Something always comes up,” Jack replied from the doorway, making both her and Owen jump. Jack flashed them his wide, bright smile. “I wouldn’t say no if someone volunteered to do it for me.”

No way. She’d gotten suckered into doing that when she was with the police.

“Since Owen’s the one with the problem, you might want to look to him,” Gwen replied, throwing Owen a triumphant smirk.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jack laughed. “Actually, I was wondering if you two would run down to the archives and drag up a couple more boxes for me.”

“Christ, Jack, there’s got to be an easier way. I’ve got more bloody paper cuts today than I think I’ve had in my entire life,” Owen complained.

“Easy isn’t always the best way.” Jack looked at him pointedly. “Now go get those boxes.” With that, Jack left and headed back to his office.

“Tosser.”

Gwen snorted.

“What?”

“You, you big baby. Whining about a few paper cuts.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “Come on, baby, let’s go.”

“Baby, hm? This mean I can start calling you ‘sweetcheeks’?” he asked with a devilish grin as he followed her out.

“I’d threaten to smack you if you did, but I know you’d enjoy it too much,” she threw back over her shoulder.

Tosh passed them on the way to the stairs, coffee in hand. “Where are you two off to?”

“Jack’s sending us to the dungeon to get more files,” Owen groused.

“Guess I timed that well,” she smirked. “Have fun with the dust and spiders.”

“Ugh, spiders, why’d you have to remind me,” he said as Tosh went on her way.

Gwen laughed. “First paper cuts and now spiders. You’re not a baby, you’re a big girl.”

“Oi!” Then he dropped his voice, “Now you and I both know that’s not true.”

A delightful shiver passed through her at his words. “Still doesn’t mean you don’t act like one.”

Owen just laughed as they made their descent.

They had to work together to force the door open. Tosh hadn’t been joking about the dust or the spiders. A thick, gray dust lay over everything in the room, even the massive cobwebs that hung everywhere. The only relatively dust-free spaces were the shelves where the boxes that were currently upstairs had rested.

“This basement really is the lost world, isn’t it?” Gwen commented.

“Lost and forgotten.” Owen went over to one of the shelves and opened a box. “And I’m betting for a very good reason. This stuff’s so old in here it’s of use to no one.”

“Jack thinks they may be of use,” she said as she started opening and sifting through boxes on the shelf opposite from Owen.

“No, Jack just doesn’t want us sitting on our asses all day,” he replied. “This is busywork, plain and simple.”

She had to admit, he had a point.

They lapsed into silence then, the quiet only broken by the shuffling of paper and scrape of cardboard boxes, until Gwen sliced her finger on one of the manila folders.

“Shit,” she hissed as the sting of the cut registered. “This is bloody useless.”

There was a snicker from Owen’s end of the room.

“What?” She turned to face him.

“It’s all fun and games until you get a paper cut of your very own.”

“Shut it.”

He just laughed again. “How quickly you’ve fallen.” The way he said it, Gwen felt like she had been paid a very high compliment. Plus he used that voice, the one that made her weak in the best possible way. It didn’t help that he’d been using it all day, off and on, keeping her on edge, making her want… She hated that he had managed to get under her skin so easily, and yet part of her loved every minute of it.

Maybe it was time to take the edge off, see if maybe Owen was all talk. Though she was pretty certain by now that he was willing to follow through with pretty much everything that came out of his mouth. And Gwen was sick of looking through old files.

They were in the lost, dusty world of forgotten archives, something told her there weren’t any cameras down here.

She closed the short distance between them, pinning Owen against the shelves.

“Oh, I think I’m going to like this,” he purred.

Cocking her head to the side, she watched him. “Just think?”

He responded with a wide, self-satisfied grin. “Well, I don’t like to make assumptions.”

“Oh, no, not you,” she said with a touch of sarcasm, then kissed him. She kept it slow and controlled but left him with no doubt as to where things were going.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured as his hands slipped under the hem of her shirt to settle around her waist. “I just didn’t picture you as the type to mess around at work.”

She caught at the waistband of his trousers and started unfastening them. “This is entirely your fault.”

“My fault? How the hell is this my fault? You’re the one who pinned me here.”

“But you’ve been antagonizing me all morning.”

Owen smirked, his hands running lightly up the contours of her waist. “At least it seems to have paid off.” He used his hold to tug her forward, flush against his body, trapping her hand between them. “Can’t stop thinking about you. About how you feel. How you move. Do you have any idea how long the nights get with thoughts like that?” Owen’s lips whispered against hers. But when she moved to kiss him, he eluded her. “That question actually wasn’t rhetorical.”

Gwen blinked. He expected her to answer that? Yeah, she did know. All too well. Those long, dark nights with Rhys snoring quietly beside her as she lay awake still too wound from the day to fall asleep…

“Owen,” she sighed, “if you’re going to get all philosophical, we might as well grab those boxes and head back upstairs.” She tried to step back, out of his embrace, but he held her fast.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He spun them so she was now trapped between him and the storage units. “Spent too many nights these last few weeks wanking off to thoughts of you. I’m not about to let the real thing slip away.”

And then he was kissing her, claiming her mouth with a fierce determination that wouldn’t be denied. Denying him was the very last thing she intended.

There was enough room between them now that she managed to finally work down the fastening on his jeans and push past the layers to find him hard and waiting. He made a noise that sounded not unlike a growl when she wrapped her hand around his shaft.

One of Owen’s hands trailed around from her back and made quick work of the button and zip on her own jeans.

“Lace,” he chuckled. “Seems that someone was hopeful.”

He was then pushing past the lace, through coarse curls, down—she gasped as two fingers sunk deep inside her waiting quim without warning. Her body shuddered at such a direct, undeniable intrusion.

Owen’s mouth danced lightly over hers as his fingers began to slowly fuck her. “So wet,” he breathed, “and all for me.”

Gwen wanted to tell him that he was such a cocky shit, but speech was a little bit beyond her at the moment. Christ, if he kept this up, she wasn’t going to last long at all. As for paying him any attention…hell, it was Owen, the lack of satisfaction would probably do him some good. And yet…

“Need you,” she managed to gasp as she rode his hand.

“You already have me.” The words weren’t said with the flipness she would have expected. They had a quiet seriousness to them that struck a chord that she didn’t want to examine too closely.

Forcing her eyes open, she focused on Owen. “Need you,” she repeated, squeezing his cock for emphasis.

“Sure you want to do that here?” God, he could be so smug.

“No, let’s go back up to the conference room, been wanting to try out that table.” She reached her free hand around Owen to fish his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Kinky, Cooper. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” His thumb grazed across her clit, eliciting a low moan from her. “But you’d have to keep it down. No telling how the pterodactyl would react to your screams.”

“I don’t scream,” she denied, cursing how breathless she sounded. Ignoring his low laughter, she let go of his prick and started to sift through the wallet she had retrieved. Not the easiest task in the world with Owen distracting her by stroking and pressing and twisting his fingers inside of her just so. She managed, finally, to locate what she was looking for tucked between a couple twenty pound notes. Objective achieved, she plucked the foil square from between the notes and chucked the billfold off to the side.

“You could have at least put it back where you found it!” he protested.

“What, are you afraid the spiders are going to run off with it?” She tore open the wrapper with a smirk, removed the condom and shoved the trash in his front pocket.

Owen sighed. “You’re giving rubbish more consideration than my wallet. We really need to work on your priorities.” Without warning, he withdrew his hand from her pants, leaving her bereft at the loss.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a quick kiss as he snatched the condom from her fingers.

“Now none of that,” he warned. “You’re the one who wanted to change things up. I would have been perfectly content to keep going like we were. Because much as I love being buried balls deep inside of you, sweetheart, there’s something to be said about being able to watch you lose control without any distraction to myself.”

Gwen found it very difficult to breathe for a moment.

“But what I like best of all,” he leaned close, his breath tickling against her ear, “is when I’ve got my mouth on you and I can taste the bitter-sweetness of you as you fall apart around me.”

Forget breathing. She thought she very might well have died for a moment.

“Now turn around. There’s a good girl,” he said as she complied.

Any other time she would have made a snappy retort, but with her knees just this side of liquid and her pussy aching for his touch, Gwen turned to face the storage rack.

“There’s a good girl,” he said again as his hands skimmed along her waist before settling on the waistbands of her knickers and jeans. Slowly he drew the garments down, leaving goosebumps in his wake as the air hit her too hot, bare skin.

She gripped the edge of the shelf in front of her, biting back the plea for him to take her now, please, God, stop dragging things out and fuck her. But she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. If she could help it.

He nudged her legs apart before settling a hand on her lower back. “Ease down just a bit.”

She did and, a moment later, the head of his cock was nudging at her entrance. And then he thrust forward, filling her in one quick motion.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhaled, near ecstatic with relief.

Owen leaned heavily against her back. “Christ, yeah.”

Gwen’s lips curled in amusement. Good to know he wasn’t as unaffected and in control as he was pretending to be. The smile quickly became an “o” of surprise as Owen withdrew and plunged back in. He did it again, startling a grunt of pleasure from her. Hard and fast, just what she needed.

She reached back with her left hand, covering his that rested on her hip, holding onto him and the shelf as he thrust into her again and again and again.

His mouth was at her ear, breath ragged as he spoke. “Next time you’re at my place, we’re doing this right. Been dying to shag you in front of my windows. On full view to the Bay. Want everyone to see how fucking gorgeous we are together.” He punctuated the last few words with his thrusts, just a bit slower, driving deeper each time.

When his right hand moved forward, sliding down between her legs to circle her clit without mercy, she came with a fierce suddenness, barely registering as he shuddered to completion behind her.

They stood there for long moments, gasping, leaning against each other and the shelves for support.

“I think you’re going to kill me one of these days,” Owen murmured behind her, placing an almost chaste kiss against her neck.

“There are worse ways to go,” Gwen sighed, feeling very, very content. But her contentment was soon interrupted as Owen withdrew and stepped away. Her low “No” of protest escaped unbidden.

He was back behind her, leaning close as he tugged up her pants. “You know I want nothing more than to shag you six ways to Sunday, Gwen,” he said with a quiet intensity she hadn’t expected. He wrapped his arms around her and she melted back against him. “But our lovely coworkers are going to be wondering what’s taking us so long down here. I don’t know about you, but I don’t much fancy them coming down here guns blazing, thinking we’ve been eaten by giant spiders only to interrupt our fun.”

She lifted her arm and curled it back around his neck, letting her fingers run lightly through his hair. “I told Rhys I’d probably be working late tonight.” It was the closest she could manage to asking Owen if she could come over.

“How late?” Hands stroked lightly across her stomach.

“It all depends on what comes up, doesn’t it?”

“So unpredictable, this job of ours. You might not get home until sometime tomorrow.”

Gwen only felt the tiniest bit of guilt when she replied, “Tomorrow seems very likely.”


End file.
